


Being Human

by waywardrenegade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean lurking, M/M, Minor Destiel, castiel with human emotions, i'm not really sure what to tag this, introspective Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrenegade/pseuds/waywardrenegade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel needed some reminder of what it felt like to be human, vulnerable and exposed to the elements of the world. He wanted to come just a little undone, if only to remember what it was to be alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Human

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to sliceofapplepie, vigorousjazzhands, and holdinginourscreams on Tumblr for reassuring me that this wasn't complete crap. <3

Castiel needed _some_ reminder of what it felt like to be human, vulnerable and exposed to the elements of the world. He wanted to come just a little undone, if only to remember what it was to be alive. Sometimes you had to give in completely to remember how resilient you were; Cas had learned that time and again.

The cool droplets of rain pelting his upturned face served that purpose for a while, until it was shy of what he actually sought. In a last ditch effort to achieve that raw, cut open from the inside feeling, he slowly slid his trenchcoat, heavy with the falling water, from his broad shoulders. It pooled around his feet, coming to rest in a dirty puddle of rainwater on the Chicago alley’s cracked, uneven surface. He would probably realize later that city scum, mud, and whatever debris littered the asphalt would leave ugly stains on the wrinkled beige material, but he’d be damned if he cared right now.

The icy bite of the downpour made Castiel admit that he wasn’t invincible, that he _could_ feel pain. _If_ he only opened himself up to it. He found the idea of actually embracing the hurt daunting; however, he also knew what it was like to have no feeling at all and, of the two, which he vastly preferred. It required remembering that Jimmy was human, and as an extension so was he, for this to be possible. By accepting the temporary agony and the brief glimpses of sheer contentment that occasionally found him, he could relate to the Winchesters in a more visceral way, one which he could never as solely an angel of the Lord.

Within seconds, his rumpled dress shirt had begun to cling to the outline of his muscular forearms and chest as, it too, became saturated. Cas let out a miniscule sigh as he gradually undid first the uppermost button of the white shirt, then the second, third, fourth, fifth, and finally, the last one popped free from the fabric. His fingers shook an infinitesimal amount due to both the chill in the air and the absolute absurdity of his actions, but he let the sodden cotton fall atop his coat without so much as a second thought.

It wasn’t long before the rain ran in steady rivulets over the planes of his chest, taking entirely too long to cross the expanse. They kept hesitating before each line of muscle as if in a perpetual state of reverence.

His hair was thoroughly soaked and beads of rainwater were picking their way through the tangled mess of dark chocolate and hung from his long eyelashes. The ones that hadn’t stuck instead glided across the sharp angles of his cheekbones, pausing briefly amidst several days’ stubble before running over his full, chapped lips, down the smooth path of his neck, through the fine smattering of dark chest hair, and came to settle at the waistband of his equally creased slacks. He couldn’t stop his tongue as it flicked out and tasted a stray drop with child-like curiosity.

Castiel started to feel the sting as the droplets continued to travel his body as if it were a complicated maze, and they were seeking the most circuitous exit possible. His breaths came in shallow puffs of vapor as they mingled with the night air; he watched them wistfully as they traveled skyward, illuminated by the orange halo of the streetlight at the mouth of the narrow alley.

Cas allowed himself a mere second to imagine unfolding his wings and chasing down the clouds; he tried to picture how the small beads would roll down the inky length of their feathers, catching the hazy light and refracting it in strange patterns, before he let the idea dissipate altogether.

The bite of frigid rain made his keen blue eyes water slightly, so it was likely he hadn’t seen Dean lurking in the shadows, leaning casually against the driver’s side of the Impala. Dean wasn’t even sure what had possessed him to stay rooted to the spot, eyes absorbing the sight of a half-nude Castiel doing some form of freaky angel water worship, but he was completely unable to tear his hazel gaze away from the other man.

Cas’ chest was precisely divided into left and right sections by the navy tie he always tied backward, and Dean couldn’t make up his mind as to which to stroke first. Sam had demonstrated on multiple occasions how to properly knot the cloth strip, yet Castiel seemed to prefer doing things in his own bizarre manner. It was that stubbornness that had originally lead the world weary hunter to befriend the peculiar angel, gave them something to bond over in a purely masculine way, of course.

Dean’s calloused fingers itched with an odd desire to run over Cas’ drenched torso, to feel the _bump bump bump_ under his roaming caress as soft skin overlaid unyielding rib bones, to feel the shiver his faint touch caused, and to leisurely trace the myriad of scars on Castiel’s pale flesh that represented a millennia’s worth of battles. Dean knew the chill he’d find gracing Cas’ skin, and he ached to let the warmth leach from his own in an effort to drive away the cold from his friend, both figuratively and literally.

What Dean hadn’t realized though, was that Cas was very much aware of his presence, he always was, and knew he had been observing him. A ghost of a smile flitted across Cas’ mouth before he’d had time to question what it might mean. It was like Sam had told him numerous times; you had to take a moment now and then to step back and look at the world. It kept you humble, modest, and most of all, human, and there was nothing more that Castiel wanted some days than to be human.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first official posted Supernatual fic, so I'm a bit nervous about it. I wanted to Dean and Cas to stay true to canon, but my head canon demanded to win this one. Cas gets his powers back, but he keeps his scars and attachment to human emotions. If you have any suggestions on things I could work on, please let me know. :)


End file.
